XXVII
And on Tuesday he kept his word and the land was his for a few hundred dollars—all except the half of Lot No. 210, which it appeared the "party" declined to sell, refusing to consider any profit whatever.
"It's like a woman," remarked Munsell.
"Is your 'party' a woman?"
"Yes. I guess she's into some game or other, too. Say, what is this Seminole County game, Mr. White?—if you don't mind my asking, now that you have taken title to your—h'm!—orange grove."
"Why do you think there is any particular game afoot?" inquired the young man curiously.
"Oh, come! You know what you're buying. And that young lady knew, too. You've both bought a few acres of cypress swamp and you know it. What do you think is in it?"
"Snakes," said White coolly.[271]
"Oh, I know," said Munsell. "You think there's marl and phosphoric rock."
"And isn't there?" asked White innocently.